


Stay

by Maelstrom_Roots



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Growing Up Together, Ice Skating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25551643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maelstrom_Roots/pseuds/Maelstrom_Roots
Summary: "In the months before Louis shows up at the rink, Harry has been considering giving skating up altogether. Then, Louis comes to IceSheffield, his heart so obviously full of love for the sport, for simply being on the ice, that Harry can’t help but fall in love with it too. Harry’s love for figure skating belongs to him alone, but it is something he learned from Louis."Harry and Louis are competitive ice skaters who grow up together at the same rink.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67
Collections: Prompt 4.4: Shot





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge that started with the prompt "bronze." Then, after I didn't get it in that week, I incorporated the prompt "sin" (thinking of Louis' "sin" as pride and Harry's "sin" as lust). Then, after I didn't get it in that week, I also incorporated the prompt "shot," which gets its very own scene. 
> 
> It's been so helpful to have these prompts to bounce off of and to send my story in new and unexpected directions.   
> To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, click here, and to see all fics written as part of the challenge (including years 1-3), click here. You can also find the masterpost for this year’s challenge here.
> 
> Figure skating note: I really wanted to have more time to actually learn about the world of competitive figure skating and that... did not happen. If you know anything about ice skating and get annoyed when people get details wrong, then this might not be the fic for you. The figure skating setting never evolved into the kind of vivid, realistic world I would have liked it to. As the story is, it ended up being more of a vague backdrop.

For Louis, ice skating has long been tied up with winning. Louis loves skating, but that love has never kept the edges of the sport’s expectations from cutting into him. For his closest competitors, skating is tied to glory or achievement—maybe even to fun. It’s not like this for Louis. For him, it has always been tied to proving that it was worth it, that the money Jay spent on Louis’ lessons instead of sending Lottie to summer camp or getting Phoebe braces was worth the trade off. That he was worth the trade-off.

Louis had found skating accidentally, when his granddad gifted Louis a pair of charity shop skates for his sixth birthday. They were the nicest present Louis had ever gotten, far more durable than any of the cheap, plastic toys that Louis liked and was thankful for but would inevitably fall apart before the last day of spring. 

Louis remembers removing the tabloid newspaper haphazardly wrapped around the skates to see the leather and steel; he thought they looked like they might last forever. Louis never had the chance to find out. He grew out of them by the time he turned seven. But, by then, the damage was done. Skating was in Louis’ bones, grown further into him every time Louis convinced his mum to bring the family to the Doncaster Dome down the street. 

Louis had cried so hard the day he tried to put his skates on and they wouldn’t fit that his mother went out and bought him a brand new pair. It was the first new pair of shoes Louis had ever owned.

By the time Louis was eight, he was allowed to go to The Dome all by himself. He worked out a deal with the rink manager so he didn’t have to pay in exchange for helping organize the rental skate room every Sunday. In retrospect, Louis realizes this was just an excuse for the manager to let him in for free. Louis was only tall enough to reach the first two rows of cubbies, which meant his “help” mainly equated to keeping the older man company as he worked. 

If a coach from IceSheffield hadn’t happened to come to The Dome with her family, then  
Louis would probably still be there, finding time on the ice in between whatever job he spent the majority of his time at. That had been his plan: when he was 13 and legally old enough to work, he’d find a job and help his mum out. Instead, by the time he was 13, all of Louis’ free time was tied up in figure skating.

Louis often wished that he loved skating half as much. Then, it would be so much easier to give it up, to give up on this crazy dream of becoming something in the skating world. Louis knows those kinds of dreams aren’t for people like him, and he feels selfish for wanting it anyway. 

*

For Harry, ice skating has long been tied up with Louis. 

Sure, there is a time before Louis came to IceSheffield, but that isn’t a time when Harry loves skating. Before Louis comes to the rink, skating is something Harry does, but it isn’t something that he is. It is something to pass the time while he is young and it is his job to fill his days with trying. He likes skating, he really does, but he also likes painting his nails with Gemma and baking with his mom. He likes learning how to play guitar and playing tag with his friends after school.

In the months before Louis shows up at the rink, Harry has been considering giving skating up altogether. Then, Louis comes to IceSheffield, his heart so obviously full of love for the sport, for simply being on the ice, that Harry can’t help but fall in love with it too. Harry’s love for figure skating belongs to him alone, but it is something he learned from Louis.

*

When Louis first comes to the rink, Harry is 10 and Louis is 12. 

Louis is wary of Harry from the get-go. He doesn’t trust the easy way Harry smiles or gives compliments. Besides, he’s here to skate, not to make friends. Every second he spends distracted by one of Harry’s antics feels like just another way he’s letting his mum down.

“Have you made any friends yet?” Jay asks him one day on the long ride home from Sheffield after Louis has been there for a month or so. 

“No,” Louis says, distracted by a game on his phone.

“Why not?” Jay asks.

Louis gives her a confused look, but his attention is already back on his game when he says: “I thought I was there to skate.”

Jay pulls the car over to the side of the road.

Louis puts his phone down. “Mum, what are you doing?”

Jay undoes her seatbelt, and turns to Louis. “You’re a kid,” she says angrily. “It’s your job to make friends and have fun.”

“It’s fine, mum,” Louis tells her. “I have plenty of friends in Donny. I know how hard you work to send me there. I don’t want to waste it.”

Jay’s face softens, but her tone doesn’t lose any of its edge. “No, you listen to me.” She takes Louis’ face in her hands. “I want you to be a kid. OK, love?”

Louis nods, mostly because he doesn’t think his mum will actually keep driving until he agrees, but, after that, Louis lets himself laugh at Harry’s jokes—the funny ones. He lets himself start telling them back. 

*

When Harry is 14 and Louis is 16, Jay gets sick. Louis starts missing more practices—because he has to look after his siblings so his stepdad can go with his mum to her chemo appointments, because he needs to make some extra money helping out at his mate’s moving company, because he is too damn tired to strap blades to his feet and fly through the air when everything else in his life is trying so hard to keep him fettered to the earth. 

Eventually, he misses an entire week straight. Harry overhears one of their coaches leaving a message on Louis’ phone, telling him that, if he isn’t there on Monday, she will give his spot to someone else. Harry thinks it’s an empty threat, but he’s not willing to risk it. So, that weekend, Harry convinces his stepdad to drive the almost two hours to Doncaster. 

Harry has never been to Louis’ house before, but he has the address from his Christmas card list. He finds Louis’ house nestled between a shuttered shop and a parking lot.

Harry rings the bell while Robin waits in the car until one of Louis’ siblings—Daisy, Harry thinks—answers the door. 

“Louis, it’s for you!” maybe-Daisy yells back into the house, unimpressed, before disappearing again and leaving Harry alone.

When Louis makes it to the door, he has 

“If you quit, then I will too,” Harry blurts out before Louis can even say hello.

Louis’ brow furrows. “What? Why?”

Harry holds his ground. “Because skating isn’t skating without you next to me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Louis tells him. “We both compete in men’s singles.”

“I don’t make the rules,” Harry says. “I just know this sport isn’t worth a damn without you in it.”

Then, Harry turns and walks away.

Louis is back at IceSheffield the next day.

*

Louis likes the chill that comes with being on the ice, how he can feel it best in the places where his bones lie closest to the skin. Even when he is panting and sweaty, his body filled with energy, there are still places the cold seeps into, uninvited yet welcome, like an old friend. 

*

Harry is constantly trying to push the limits of what is “appropriate” when it comes to his routines. He tries to dance to any of Belle’s Disney Princess songs, but the coaches won’t let him. He wants to wear a costume that’s closer in style to something the women wear, but the coaches won’t let him. 

Louis envies Harry’s bravery but he resents him a little bit for it too. It feels like a kind of privilege. Louis knows it costs Harry something when he pushes back against the stupid rules that govern what a “boy” should wear or do, but, just like everything else Harry does, he makes it look easy.

*

Louis is good at the technical stuff. Despite getting a late start on his formal training, he is good at the jumps and the spins and the step sequences. He likes the parts of skating that have a clear metric, that you can know whether you did right or wrong. He has a harder time with the more subjective, intangible stuff that falls into the “artistic” part of the scoring system. Is the skater skating with their “soul”? Shit like that. 

This is the stuff that Harry excels at. He doesn’t always nail his jumps, but there is no one who pours the same level of charisma into their routines. When Harry is on the ice, you can’t look away. It makes you feel good, makes you feel safe and vulnerable at the same time. Louis doesn’t know how Harry does that.

Some people say it’s a quality that can’t be taught, and, after years of trying and failing to mimic the way Harry bears his soul on the ice every single fucking time, Louis is beginning to think it might true. But he keeps trying anyway.

*

Harry is 16 and Louis is 18 when things change.

“Jay running late?” Harry asks one night when he finds Louis waiting on the bench outside of the rink. Harry leaves out the “again” they both know he could have added. Jay isn’t forgetful, she’s just overwhelmed. She has Mark now, but she is still the parent of four kids and Louis is the oldest, which means he is the one who generally gets picked up last.

Instead of saying this (or something less vulnerable and more combative), Louis just nods. He’s so fucking tired. Too tired to argue with Harry in an attempt to steer him away from judgement—or worse, pity. 

They both intentionally avoid looking at the parking lot where Harry’s car is the only one parked. Harry has offered Louis a ride home before, on nights like this when it’s too late for Louis to take the train back to Doncaster, even though their respective homes are literally in opposite directions. Louis always says no, so Harry doesn’t offer tonight.

Harry goes back inside of the arena, and Louis tries not to feel abandoned by one more person. He curls up inside of his not-quite-warm-enough coat. He really should go back inside, but that would feel like admitting defeat. Like accepting the fact that he has no idea if his mum will be here in five minutes or in five hours because his mum busted her phone last week and they can’t afford to get her another one right now.

Five minutes later, Harry is back. He’s holding a thermos and two cups. “Made us some hot cocoa. For while we wait.” 

Sometime after the first hour but before the third, Harry blurts out: “Wanna say things we’re afraid to say out loud out loud?”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Harry turns to Louis on the bench. “Because it’s terrifying? Because we can?”

Louis shrugs, so Harry starts.

“People always talk about how ‘naturally-talented’ I am,” Harry says, soft but determined. “They say it as if that means I don’t have to work at it too. I get it. Some things come easier to me than others, but I also work my ass off here every day just like everybody else and I’m not asking for special recognition for it or anything. I just wish people didn’t act like I came into this world knowing how to do a backflip on skates.”

“You deserve it.”

“What?” Harry asks, not sure if he should be gearing up for another fight.

“You deserve recognition, Harry. You’re a fucking good skater. Best I’ve ever seen. Besides me, of course.”

“Of course.”

They’re quiet for a while, but it’s not the empty kind. Eventually, Louis takes Harry’s example and tries saying something true too.

“Sometimes, I resent my mom for choosing me last,” Louis says, too afraid to look at Harry when he says it. “Like, I know that’s not how she means it, but that’s what it feels like. I am the oldest, which means I am the one who can understand why she is late picking me up every night or why I can’t have new sneakers or why I can’t go out with my friends because someone needs to stay home and watch the kids.” 

Louis tries looking at Harry, so Harry nods, eyes kind, encouraging Louis to go on.

“The thing is…” Louis continues. “I’ve been the oldest since I was six years old, and we didn’t have enough money for me to go on the school trip. And I’ve been the oldest since I was nine and we had to use the money set aside for new skates for Fizzy’s dance lessons. Sometimes, I just want to be the one who is coddled, you know? The one who doesn’t have to understand.”

“But then I think about what that might mean for Lottie or Phoebe or Ernest, and I feel so fucking selfish. I think about how much I know my mom sacrifices for me to come here everyday, how much easier it would be for her if I quit skating years ago, and how she’s never asked me to. How she never would.”

By the time Jay drives into the parking lot, three hours later than she’d planned to be there, the hot cocoa has long gone cold, but it’s OK. Louis has Harry to keep him warm.

*

Harry loves Louis like he loves ice skating: delicately, like it is a gift.

*

Not long after that, Harry and Louis fall into bed together. 

Well, they fall into the locker room together, Louis sucking Harry off in the showers after everyone else has gone home for the day. They fall into the storage closet together, grinding desperately against each other until they both come in their pants. They fall into Harry’s car together, making out for hours until their lips are sore and they can’t stop smiling.

*

Six weeks after they’ve been getting each other off, they go on their first date. It’s Harry’s idea, but Louis quickly and enthusiastically takes the plan over.

“What do you mean you’ve never been to The Dome?” Louis squawks. 

“That’s the one with the split-level rink, right?”

Louis huffs. “‘That’s the one with the split-level rink,’ he says. It’s only the only split-level rink in Britain.”

Harry’s eyes twinkle fondly. “So this is a thing for you, then?”

“This isn’t a thing for me, Harold. This is a thing for our nation.”

Louis takes Harry to The Dome that Saturday.

Harry buys Louis chicken wings, and Louis shows Harry the store room he used to “help” organize skates in. They spend hours just skating around the rink, and Harry giggles excitedly every time they go from one level to another. Louis thinks about how nice it is to be on the ice without thinking about the next skill to learn, the next competition to win. It reminds him of when he was young, when skating was something he loved quietly, by and for himself, rather than something that came with crowds and judges and scores.

They take a break from the ice and Louis beats Harry at foosball again and again, laughing maniacally whenever he gets a shot in Harry’s goal, which is often. Harry pouts appropriately every time he loses, but it’s all for show. He would lose forever if it meant keeping Louis laughing, his attention on Harry and no one else.

In the evening, the ice rink turns into a dance party, with electronic pop blasting from the speakers and neon lights darting across the ice. Harry shows off all of the moves he wishes he could use in his routines but his coach has vetoed. He wiggles his hips and flails his arms, and Louis isn’t sure whether to laugh or stare at his ass, so he does both. 

Harry drives Louis home, even though it’s only a 10-minute walk. When they get to Louis’ house, Harry gets out, walks around the car, and opens Louis’ door for him.

“Smooth,” Louis tells him as he grabs Harry’s proffered hand and climbs out of the car.

Louis doesn’t want the day to end, so he convinces Harry to play a game of hockey using the kids hockey set in the driveway. The game starts as silly, but turns into something else the longer they push up against one another.

Finally, Harry picks the puck and moves to the very end of the driveway.

“If I make this shot, you have to kiss me,” he tells Louis.

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” 

Harry flusters, his eyes going wide and his cheeks going pink, as if he hasn’t had his mouth on much more intimate parts of Louis than his lips. “I mean, if you consent to it,” Harry says quickly. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do, Lou.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time, hotshot,” Louis tells him, moving out of the way so Harry has a clear shot. “Besides, it’s a moot point. I’ve seen you try to play hockey before. You’re going to miss.”

Harry misses. 

Louis kisses him anyway. 

They stay in the driveway, trading gentle and then not-so-gentle kisses up against the house until Lottie opens the window and yells at them to stop traumatizing the neighborhood. It’s the best date either of them has ever been on.

*

Louis starts staying with Harry on nights when they have to be back at the rink in the morning. Harry buys Louis a toothbrush for his house and they watch terrible movies with Gemma until it’s time to go to bed. Louis gets to see Robin tease Harry about his hair and watch Harry kiss his mum on the cheek every morning like the adoring son that he is. Harry cooks him dinner and makes him tea and never once complains about Louis taking up too much space. Rather, he’s always reaching out for Louis, holding his hand or running his fingers through Louis’ hair, asking him to “C’mere” so he can put his mouth somewhere on Louis’ skin. 

Harry comes to Louis’ house sometimes, too, though it happens less often because there is just less room. Harry wants to go as often as he can, wants to get to know Louis’ family and neighborhood, but Louis is good at persuading Harry they should go to his instead. He claims it is because it is closer and he gets more sleep, but it’s really because he is selfish. He wants as much of Harry to himself as he can get, and there are just so many people at his house to share Harry with. 

Sometimes, at Harry’s, they get the house to themselves and they fall into bed together. They explore one another and themselves, what makes them tremble and what makes them gasp and what makes them come so hard they don’t speak for a long while after. Louis always thought he knew his body—he knows when it is too tired to attempt a quad or which muscles to stretch for which aches and pains—but now he’s realizing just how much he didn’t know until he let Harry touch him.

For Harry, it is magic. It is falling even deeper into love.

For Louis, it is magic too, but that magic is just another thing for Louis to be suspicious of, another thing he can’t quite trust because it looks too good to be true and, in Louis’ experience, things rarely work out the ways they do in the movies. This only makes Louis hold on even tighter.

*

Louis loves Harry like he loves skating: selfishly, like it’s something worth fighting for.

*

It all starts to go to hell in October, a few weeks before Grand Prix season is about to start. Louis is being an ass, upset that he didn’t land his triple axel once in practice today.

They fight. Louis tells Harry that this isn’t working, that he doesn’t think they should see one another for a while. He asks Harry to go. He tells him not to call him.

Louis doesn’t mean it, not really. He just wants someone to yell at and Harry is there and always so willing to give Louis what he needs, even when what he needs is to be a complete asshole. 

When Louis shows up at Harry’s the next morning, to apologize, to take it all back, Harry isn’t there. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he spent the night somewhere else, with someone else. Anne asks Louis to wait, offers to make Louis a cup of tea, but Louis can’t take the pity in her eyes and he’s afraid he’ll start crying if he stays.

It’s not cheating, not really. Even before Louis broke things off, they weren’t officially together. But it still feels like it when Harry shows up at Louis’ front door later that day, tears streaming down his face as he begs Louis for his forgiveness.

Louis can tell that Harry regrets it. He believes Harry when he says he doesn’t care about this other guy like he cares about Louis. And Louis wants to forgive him, he probably already has, but there’s a stupid, stubborn pride inside of Louis that is keeping him from wrapping Harry in his arms and telling him that it’s going to be OK. That they’re going to be OK. A deeper insecurity that isn’t Harry’s fault, and that isn’t Louis’ fault either. A question he’s been asking himself since he was little. “Why does everything have to be so hard?” 

Louis is so tired of fighting, so he tells Harry no. Harry nods once and walks away. 

Louis waits until Harry’s car has disappeared at the end of the street before he starts crying.

*

Harry’s skating suffers from his heartbreak, and it would break Louis’ heart to watch if his heart wasn’t already shattered into a million pieces. 

Louis doesn’t blame Harry for his broken heart. He blames himself. His inability to swallow his pride and tell Harry that they can work on it. That they can get through anything, as long as they’re together. Louis wants to curl up around Harry and ask him questions that help him understand. Not because he’s hurt, though he is, or because he deserves the answers, which he does, but because he wants to know Harry’s mind. He wants to know his heart.

But Louis has always chosen skating. He’s chosen it over his family, over himself. It’s a habit now, and Louis doesn’t know how to choose anything else, even if he wants to.

*

Anne knocks on Harry’s door before opening it. The room is dark. 

He’s lying on his stomach, his face turned away from the door so Anne can’t see it, but she can tell from the uneven rise and fall of his back as he breathes that he is crying. She comes to sit on the bed, putting her hand on Harry’s back and kissing his curls before speaking.

“Oh, honey.” Anne strokes his back. “Maybe you should try talking to him.”

Harry turns his head toward his mum. His face is blotchy and tearstained. Anne loves how much her son feels, but she still wishes she could take the pain away.

“I tried, mum,” Harry sniffles. “I don’t think he heard me.”

“Can you think of a different way to say it?”

*

One evening, as the sun is setting over Doncaster, Jay joins Louis on the back steps. 

“I hate to see you like this, love.”

Louis shrugs. “Don’t see what else I can do.”

Jay sighs and puts her arm around Louis, hugging him towards her. “Oh, Lou. What am I going to do with you? You’ve always been so determined. People see it in your commitment to skating, but it’s in everything you do. It’s in how you love and how you hurt. It can be such a good quality, love, but sometimes, you get so focused on the path in front of you that you forget there might be better ways to go.” 

Louis leans into Jay. “I don’t want to give him up, mum.”

“Then don’t.”

*

The Golden Bear competition isn’t part of the Grand Prix, but it can still matter, and Louis’ coach is confident Louis can get a technical score to qualify him for ISU Championships. 

Louis and Harry sit next to each other on the plane ride to Croatia, and Louis tries not to think about how, last year, Harry had fallen asleep on his shoulder. After a half hour, it had become uncomfortable, but Louis still hadn’t moved the rest of the flight even though he was honestly worried it might affect his skating. Not until Harry woke up as they were descending into Zagreb, his face sleepy and open as he smiled at Louis and tried to wipe the drool off of Louis’ shirt. 

This year, Harry stays awake the whole time. He reads a Harukami book and doesn’t look at Louis once. Louis almost works up the courage to say something to Harry when they take off. He almost works up the courage to say something to him when the flight attendant comes to offer them drinks. He almost works up the courage to say something to him when they’re waiting for their bags at the Zagreb airport. Instead, he stays quiet.

They settle into the hotel next to the ice arena, and Louis and Harry get dinner with their coaches in the hotel restaurant. Harry is polite to Louis the entire time, asking him to pass the salt with a “please” and remarking on how good his parallel spins are looking. It’s terrible. 

When they head up to their rooms, Harry tells Louis “goodnight” without so much as a lingering, meaningful glance. 

Louis wonders if Harry is over him. It feels like drowning.

*

Harry is slated to go first and he hopes to god that Louis is watching. He hopes that, when the music starts, he knows what it means. He knows that this is all for Louis. His mum told him to find another way to say it, and he can’t think of any better way than this.

*

Louis really should be warming up, but he can’t not watch Harry. He loves to watch Harry skate.

Harry strikes his starting pose. The music starts. But it’s not his music. It’s not Sakamoto. It sounds like some kind of pop ballad. 

Louis looks desperately at their coaches to see if they’re trying to fix this. But they’re just watching Harry, as if nothing is wrong.

Louis turns back to Harry, and notices he doesn’t seem to think there’s anything wrong either.

Then, Louis recognizes the song. 

“All along it was a fever…”

This is “Stay” by Rhianna. One of Louis’ favorites. He’s been listening to it fucking nonstop since he and Harry broke up. And, now, Harry is skating to it like something out of Louis’ fever dream.

“Round and around and around and around we go…” Harry breaks into a gorgeous parallel spin. Louis has never seen anything more beautiful. Harry is always gorgeous on ice, impossible for Louis to look away from, but this is something deeper. He’s never seen Harry throw himself into a routine like this. It’s incredibly intimate. How does he do that?

When the song breaks into the first chorus (“Not really sure how to feel about it… Something in the way you move…”), Harry’s routine brings him closer to where Louis’ watching. (“Makes me feel like I can't live without you.”) When Harry skates past Louis, he breaks his focus to make eye contact with Louis. (“It takes me all the way..”) His eyes are filled with such intense emotion, and it’s all for Louis. (“I want you to stay…”)

Harry skates away again, but Louis feels like he is still staring into his eyes. 

Louis is mesmerized. Harry is asking him to be brave. Harry is asking him to stay.

The routine is over in a heartbeat and lasts lifetimes and, when it’s done and Harry has struck his last, beautiful pose, Louis realizes that his cheeks are wet.

“Louis, are you OK?” one of his coaches asks. 

Louis wipes his face. “Yeah, no worries. Ready to go.”

How is Louis supposed to skate after watching this? All he wants to do is talk to Harry. All he wants to do is touch Harry. But, sometime, in the seconds he has been distracted by the coach, Harry has skated off of the ice in the other direction. He’s gone and now it’s Louis’ turn and, as he skates like a robot on the ice, he honestly doesn’t know what kind of skater this audience is about to get.

Louis has always gotten the technical aspects of skating, but he’s never quite allowed himself to be free, to feel the emotion of the moves, to let the music guide him. That’s always been Harry’s thing. Today, he does. He lets go of the expectations and the pressure and the insecurities. He stops fighting and, instead, he just skates. 

He channels everything he is into the routine. He doesn’t push that knot of feelings down. Instead, he taps into it. He lets it fuel his every move, his every flourish, his every stride. It unfurls inside of him, filling his body up with something other than fear. Something light yet strong, like his love for Harry. 

When he finishes, coming to rest in his final pose, he knows without looking at his coach or waiting for the scores that it’s the best he’s ever skated.

As the audience comes to life around him, he finds himself seeking out Harry. He has to find Harry. When he does, watching from the side, Harry is already looking back at him. He’s clapping like a maniac, a big smile on his face, his eyes watery and proud, as if he were the one who just skated the best routine of his career. 

Oh. Louis gets it. There is another path. A better one.

He skates over to Harry, takes his face in his hands, and kisses him.

When Louis pulls away, he throws himself into Harry’s arms. 

“I love you too,” Louis whispers, and it’s only for Harry. 

Harry’s arms squeeze tighter around him.

“I want to stay,” Louis tells him, and Harry sobs into Louis hair. 

Louis stays.

*

Louis and Harry love each other like they love nothing else: utterly, like it’s the most important thing they will ever do.


End file.
